The More Things Change
by A-is-for-Amy
Summary: Harry is home after a hard fifth year... then he has an encounter with Dudley that has the potential to change them both forever. Short, one-shot, NO pairings.


**The More Things Change**  
  
"What's the matter with you?"  
  
Harry didn't bother to look up at the query from his cousin, but continued to lie on his stomach on his bed, pretending to be absorbed in a schoolbook. Dudley never spoke to Harry unless it was to insult or bully him, and Harry was in no mood to deal with him. He was in no mood for anything. He had come home from Hogwarts, battered and bruised emotionally and physically, only a week ago, and had been largely ignored by the Dursley family since that time. Several letters had arrived for him by owl post over that past couple of days, but Harry had not been able to drum up the interest to do more than skim through them and set them aside. They all carefully tiptoed around the fact that Harry's Godfather was gone. Killed in a battle that needn't have happened only weeks before, Harry was still hovering between acceptance and grief.  
  
"What are you, sick or something? Catch something at that freak school you go to?" Dudley prodded from where he was leaning on the doorjamb. He had heard his parents discussing Harry often since that group of freaks had met them at the train station. Why they would care why Harry had been moping around his room, not taking meals all week was beyond him, but Dudley detested anyone who took his parent's attention away from him. They were just worried that those people would turn up at the front door house if Harry kept acting this way, and so Dudley felt it was up to him to bring his cousin's act to an end.  
  
Harry kept his gaze focused on the pages before him, tempted to tilt the book so that Dudley could see the subject of the page's picture moving. That would probably get rid of Dudley, but might bring his aunt or uncle to investigate any 'magic' going on in their house. Even if he had the desire to row with Dudley, inside the house was not the place to do it. No, he would just ignore him, and he would go away when he realized that Harry wasn't going to rise to the bait.  
  
"Maybe you're still having those nightmares? Still missing your mummy and daddy?" Dudley pushed another button. He remembered how flustered Harry had gotten last summer when he had teased him about moaning in his sleep and calling out for his dead parents, "Or is it your boyfriend you miss? What was his name? Cedric?"  
  
Finally, Harry lifted his head and met Dudley's sneering gaze. It wasn't anger he felt, Harry thought to himself in a detached sort of way, he didn't recognize the feeling for a few moments, and just stared at Dudley while he examined this new emotion. He wasn't used to feeling anything but anger or disgust in relation to his cousin. Dudley was standing up now, away from the doorjamb, readying himself for what he was sure was going to be the first volley of a verbal attack. Sitting up, still not sure what he was feeling inside, Harry opened his mouth to tell Dudley to give it up and go away, and was surprised to hear himself say instead, "You're my cousin."  
  
"So?" Dudley said, clearly baffled.  
  
"So, don't you think it's odd? Our mothers were sisters, and we grew up in the same house," Harry said, "but we don't know anything about each other, really. We're nothing alike."  
  
"Yeah, so?" Dudley repeated, stepping forward, sure this must be some sort of tactic to throw him off kilter, "What do I need to know besides that fact that you're a freak and I'm not?" He glanced down at the book Harry had set aside, but left open, momentarily speechless at the movement he saw there. Resolutely, he turned his gaze away.  
Harry stared thoughtfully at Dudley for a moment, and then picked up the book and held it up and said, "You won't ask, will you? Even when you see it with your own eyes, you won't ask about it. Aren't you the least bit curious?"  
  
Dudley resisted the urge to step backward, away from the book, but said sharply, hating the hint of panic in his voice, "Put that thing away!"  
  
Harry shrugged, not surprised by this reaction, and closed the book.  
  
Dudley had no idea what 'transfiguration' was, and was relieved that the picture of the toad turning into a teakettle over and over again was blocked from his view. His brain was churning, and his heart was hammering as conflicting thoughts chased themselves around his mind. His parents had absolutely forbid him to talk about magic, and refused to answer any questions he asked them. They had assured him that he didn't need to know anything about that sort of unnaturalness. They encouraged his animosity toward his cousin, and that had suited Dudley just fine... until last summer.  
  
Now? He wanted to know; wanted to ask, but his hatred (he would never admit it was jealousy) of Harry, his fear, and his parents disapproval warred with his curiosity. Any fool could see the changes Harry had gone through since he began at that school he went to; gone was the timid, easily bullied scrap of a boy that had lived in the cupboard under the stairs. Now he was taller than Dudley, if not stronger, and seemed to know things that Dudley couldn't fathom. Of course he wanted to know! He had seen the owls flying in and out of Harry's open window, and had spent hours wondering what they were doing and who was sending them. He had seen a broomstick in the trunk at the end of Harry's bed and had been tempted to examine it more closely... did "their kind" really fly on them? Hundreds of questions swam to the surface, but he couldn't bring himself to ask any of them.  
  
Harry set the book aside, and watched Dudley closely, amazed that he had not been scared away by the book. He seemed to want to say more than his plea to put the book away, some internal struggle seemed to be going on within him, and Harry waited for a moment to see what it might be.  
"Look," Harry said, "There's nothing to be afraid...."  
  
But Dudley wasn't ready to talk about everything he was feeling inside. He slapped away the hand that Harry had held out as a peace offering, and suddenly, Dudley and Harry's eyes met, and it left them both reeling. A flood of images, seemingly unconnected, flowed into Harry's mind and submerged him in Dudley's thoughts and feelings until he felt like he would drown. There was a flash of Dudley at around the age of six, in a shop of some kind, and a voice was saying, "Look at that boy, mummy! Look at how fat he is!" Before he could digest that thought, another was brought forward in his mind; Dudley at about nine years old, punching a smaller boy while his friends cheered him on. Eleven years old now, and watching through Dudley's eyes in amazement as Harry finally gets to read the letter that keeps being delivered over and over. Still eleven and waiting miserably in a hospital room to have the pig's tail removed while the nurses giggle behind their hands in the hallway. Dudley as a student at Smeltings, standing with hunched shoulders while being berated by a teacher for being dimwitted. Flashes of fights, boxing matches, a girl saying hello, his mother fussing over him, his father slapping him proudly on the back; random images of Dudley's friends, and events from his life - faster and faster. It was like watching a film of Dudley's life on fast-forward with no way to stop it.  
  
Finally, Harry managed to block out the whirl of images and focus on what was happening. Something similar had happened to him during his legilimency lessons with Snape the previous term, when Harry had inadvertently broken into Snape's thoughts. The same seemed to be happening with Dudley now, though he didn't know why. He knew that even if his wand was in his hand, he couldn't use magic to stop it all, or he would risk serious repercussions from the Ministry of Magic.  
  
The answer came to him in a flash: break eye contact. However, it was easier thought than done. With every last ounce of his will power, Harry wrenched his gaze from Dudley's and fell backward onto his mattress, breathing heavily. It was several moments before he realized that Dudley, too, had fallen. He scrambled from the bed and knelt next to Dudley, helping him to sit up. His cousin looked dazed and frightened as he pushed Harry's hands away and got shakily to his feet once more.  
  
"What...what did you do?" he whispered hoarsely.  
"I'm not sure." Harry's voice was shaking; he was still trying to assimilate the deluge of thoughts, emotions and images that had poured from Dudley's head into his own. He had a vague feeling of misery that felt quite unconnected from his own grief over the death of his Godfather. How could he explain about legilimency, and occlumency and his connection with Voldemort?  
  
"Those things I saw in my head; were they real?" Dudley asked haltingly.  
  
Harry understood now that he hadn't been the only one to experience someone else's memories. He could only imagine what must have just run through Dudley's mind while they were connected. He nodded wearily and went to sit on the edge of the bed again. Would Dudley have understood any of it? He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he just said quietly, "I'm sorry. I never...I didn't mean to do that."  
  
Dudley simply stood there, looking at him for a moment as if he had never seen him before. Harry was careful not to make eye contact with is cousin again; things could never be the same between them a gain. The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity, until finally, some door in Dudley's mind seemed to snap shut and lock itself.  
  
"God, Potter," he said, walking toward the door, his voice laced with deepest disgust, "You're more of a freak than I thought." He didn't look back as he walked out of the door and shut it behind him.

Finis.


End file.
